


i am someone who is proud to be part of your history (a legend sealed in platinum)

by sammyspreadyourwings



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Comfort No Hurt, Dreams, Emotional, F/M, Fluff, Jim is a sweatheart, Modern Era, Mother Hen Freddie Mercury, Past Character Death, Red Special Guitar (Queen), Reunions, Sad Brian May, Spirit World, Time Shenanigans, ask to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24639490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sammyspreadyourwings/pseuds/sammyspreadyourwings
Summary: Sometimes it takes Brian a gentle nudge from someone in his past to remind him it's not all doom and gloom.
Relationships: Anita Dobson/Brian May, Brian May & Freddie Mercury, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 9
Kudos: 55





	i am someone who is proud to be part of your history (a legend sealed in platinum)

**Author's Note:**

> The point of this was to write something without planning.  
> I don't know, I think it turned out okay!  
> Enjoy!

Brian wakes up alone. It isn’t unusual. Anita is an early riser and too many late nights in his life has made him morning avoidant. Only this time he isn’t in his manor, the walls are badly wallpapered, peeling and revealing a horrid blue color that Roger used to favor. Anita wouldn’t let anything like this within ten meters of their house.

It isn’t a hotel either, or not the kind he has stayed in since making any sort of money. Brian crosses his legs, then stares at where the ankles are neatly pressed against his knees. There is no ache in his lower back and if he were to want to stand, he could. With no pain.

He lifts his hand to his hair, pulling out a curl and staring at the dark brown that in the poor light looks nearly black. Brian drops it and lets it spring back with the rest. His hair hasn’t been that color since he stopped trying to dye it in the 90s.

Naturally, his first thought is time travel. Although he would have expected to be in his 70s and not the, he looks at his hands, twenty-something he is. He bites on his bottom lip. There weren’t any phenomena that happened the night before that should have triggered such a thing.

But what could trigger such a thing? A wormhole would be likely. But then why him? Why not Anita? Why this specific place that looks like one of the flats they used to call their residence even though only one of them was paying the rent at the time?

Wait.

He knows this place. Roger had wanted to paint the walls blue so he did but then the landlord had reminded them a month before their lease was up that alterations were not permitted so they had badly glued on some floral wallpaper to not lose their security deposit.

They lost it anyway because they forgot about the scorch marks in the kitchen.

Still, this place hadn’t been memorable and he doesn’t know why he is here. Or how.

Brian stands, marveling at the pain-free movement. He means to go to the window but is sidetracked by his old guitar case, the one that Roger slapped stickers on of every flag in the U.K. except for England’s. That case had been lost to water damage in the late seventies. But…

The clasps open easily and he isn’t surprised to see Red nestled in the horrible yellow lining. He runs his hand over the smooth body, noting how there are fewer scratches and how the neck isn’t as worn. She feels young and untested.

He pulls her out and rests her against his body.

“Oh, Brimi.”

Brian doesn’t look back because doing so would confirm that this is a dream.

“Time travel was more likely than a dream?”

“You know my thoughts,” Brian replies, still holding the guitar securely.

“It’s not hard, your head is in the sky when you aren’t holding that guitar, darling.”

He closes his eyes and breaths in deeply.

“Is it this room?” the voice asks.

Brian opens his eyes and he is in the main room of Garden Lodge. There is an obscenely large wreath on the wall and Christmas lights covering the fireplace. It is only a few less than he remembers there being.

He turns his head and sees a train set and smiles when he recalls that particular Christmas morning. This time he can’t resist and turns around, only to see Freddie grinning at him. The smile is tinged with something like melancholy, which Brian finds strange.

His feet carry him forward and he embraces Freddie in a long hug. It feels real, and he files away the information to be picked at later to revaluate his time travel theory, because he was in the seventies and now he is in the eighties, but his body doesn’t feel older but Freddie looks like he is barely thirty-five.

“Ah, Brian.”

He perks up and lifts his head from Freddie’s neck to see Jim carrying in a tray of teacups. Brian takes a step back and he feels a pit form in his stomach.

“Am I dead?”

“Heavens, Bri, don’t be so dramatic,” Freddie rolls his eyes, “this is just a reunion between old friends.”

“Well,” he gestures weakly, “but why me, why not Roger or John?”

Freddie winces, “John is… well, let’s just say there are some criteria both of the parties have to meet before we can do this.”

“And Roger?”

“He doesn’t need this.”

Brian hums, “he was always the stronger one, he would love to see you again.”

“And I would love to see him again,” Freddie says, “but that’s not that kind of need.”

“What kind is it?”

“I’ll let you think about that mystery.”

Jim sets the trays down. Brian wonders if there is some kind of disconnect between space and time because it should not have taken that long to make it from the entryway to the table. He looks to the ceiling and starts doing the math.

Freddie tugs on his curls, “Brimi, none of that boring shit.”

“Sorry, Freddie. So what is this place?”

“Why don’t you play something for us?” Freddie opens his palm.

Brian looks down surprised to see that he is still holding Red. She looks even newer than she had in the flat. Brian looks closer and blinks.

“This is almost the day she was made,” he says.

Her body isn’t scratched at all, and everything is still original. Thankfully, the original of her sounding good and not their first attempt at homemade pickups.

“Always beautiful, Brian.”

He flushes, “you know, I still don’t know if you meant – mean? – me or the guitar.”

Freddie winks.

“Do play something,” Jim says standing behind Freddie, “hearing it is much different than seeing it.”

Brian thinks for a moment and then strums the first few notes of _Somebody to Love._ Then he stops, that song doesn’t feel right for now. Instead, he switches his grip and starts playing Don’t Stop Me Now.

“Wonderful Brimi,” Freddie says, “as always.”

He flushes, “but you never did say why we’re doing this.”

“Does there have to be a greater meaning to a dead singer calling you to a place to have a chat?”

“Well, usually, there is.”

“Is it not enough to say that I missed you?”

Brian swallows and then laughs again, “I missed you too. But this seems a bit… much for a social call.”

“I know,” Freddie gently pulls away from Jim to hug Brian.

He tries to ignore how the last time he hugged Freddie crawls into his mind. The grip had been weaker but no less sure no less affection. Brian holds tighter and he feels that familiar burn behind his eyes.

When Freddie pulls away, he gently swipes his thumb under Brian’s eyes, “oh dear.”

“Sorry, Fred.”

“Whatever are you apologizing for? This would be a lot for anyone, especially someone with a heart like yours Brimi.”

He rubs his chest, “I’d feel better if you gave me some wisdom.”

Freddie throws his head back and laughs, “you were always the wise one, I just lived.”

“You give yourself too little credit, Freddiekins,” Brian smiles.

As expected, Freddie’s nose scrunches, “hey now, don’t be mean to me, I’m dead.”

Brian bites his cheek but doesn’t react. He is used to it by now, but such blatant reminders always… well, Brian doesn’t know that he has ever made peace with it.

“But if I did have to give you wisdom… have fun Brian,” Freddie says.

“I do?” Brian tilts his head.

Freddie reaches out and pats his cheek, “I know you have fun, but you were far more silly in your youth. You don’t have to be The Serious Old Man.”

“If I were silly then what would Roger have?”

“Roger can be the grumpy old one for once,” Freddie shrugs, “he certainly wears that pout well. Tell him to smile more.”

“Oh he won’t like that,” Brian chuckles.

“He never does like anything that sounds like you’re bossing him.”

Brian tosses his hair, “he should know I’m usually right.”

“No,” Freddie and Jim say in unison.

He chuckles.

“So, how long do we get?”

“About ten minutes of real-world time.”

“How long has it been?”

Freddie shrugs and sits down on the couch. Brian falls after him and curls up against him. He wonders when the last time they sat like this was. Probably before the wives? Or maybe after his hepatitis scare? Freddie’s arm wraps around his shoulders and he feels the warmth and safety there.

“I don’t want to waste this time,” Brian says, “but I don’t know how to spend it.”

“Is it a waste just sitting here with me?”

Brian sucks on his bottom lip for a moment. Then decides that it isn’t and snuggles up tighter against him.

“I had so many things I would say to you,” Brian says quietly, “things that I thought you would like or to ask you, just anything.”

“I know you do, Brimi, you were never at a loss for words.”

“Do you mind singing?” Brian says, “recordings… recordings aren’t the same.”

“It’s only fair, considering you played for me.”

Brian waits, wondering what song Freddie is going to pick. It could be anything. Maybe something from one of their earlier albums or maybe one of Freddie’s songs specifically. Or one of the few he knew the lyrics to completely.

_“In the year of ’39…”_

He blinks his eyes rapidly before closing them. Brian feels as Freddie’s chest and throat vibrate with the soft notes. It was always his song, but Freddie sings it with a hopefulness that he couldn’t muster those days. These days he thinks he might be closer.

_“For my life still ahead…”_

Brian hums the last few notes, “wonderful Freddie. Stunning.”

“It was the first song that came to mind, you and your thinking this was a wormhole.”

“You know, it would be worth it, if I were to go a hundred years in the future, only to meet someone with your eyes again.”

“Believing in something other than your science?”

“Science will explain everything eventually,” Brian replies, “but you always taught me that there should be some mystery left in the world.”

He feels Freddie’s fingers tug on a knot in his head. Brian swats at the hands before they can start tangling it more like he used to when he pulled it every which way for a braid.

There is something in the air that makes him close his eyes and breath. Garden Lodge smells like it did every Christmas they had when they were not doing a show. Slightly minty with pine and the lingering scent of potatoes. Freddie breathes deeply next to him and is warm.

Brian doesn’t know when he falls asleep but when he wakes up, his nose his hit with the familiar scent of Anita’s perfume. He rolls over and peers at his wife as she finishes getting done up for the day.

“It’s not like we have any place to be,” he says.

Anita jumps, “oh! I wasn’t expecting you to be up so early, you looked rather dead to the world.”

Brian chuckles, “I’m well-rested. I had a pleasant dream.”

“That’s wonderful dear,” Anita walks over and kisses him on the lips, “care to take a shower and join me for breakfast on the porch?”

“I think I would care to.”

Brian watches Anita leave, and he wonders what she’ll be making them for breakfast. He rolls back onto his side of the bed and glances at the picture of him and Freddie at one of Freddie’s birthday parties: the one where he had shown up in a witch’s costume.

_Have fun, Brian._

**Author's Note:**

> Time travel? Spirit world? A dream? an excuse to reference 39 in a fic? Who knows!
> 
> As always, leave your comments and thoughts below and come talk to me on Tumblr!


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